Now, Missouri

Michael woke to the sound of the roosters they had in the sprawling camp.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Memories of the last night flooded his thoughts.

His first night as a true part of the Blessed Sacrament of the Flesh.

He felt the new class as a warm, comforting glow within him.

He was just a little bit stronger than he had been before he had confused the man’s flesh.

No.

The man had a name.

He needed to remember that.

To honor that.

Brandon Martinez.

He remembered the name.

Then thought better of it and took out the small notebook that the Flesh Priests had given him on the day he joined the movement.

He wrote the name down on the first page.

The first of many to come.

Each a sacrifice for the betterment of the world, of the human race.

He took a long drink from the canteen of water next to his sleeping bag before he rose, dressed and stepped out of the tent.

The cool air washed over him. A product of being close to the banks of the Mississippi River.

All around him, brothers and sisters began to rise just as he had.

He exchanged warm smiles and greetings with those around him as he made his way to the mess tent.

He collected a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, bacon, toast and fruit as he made his way through the different stations.

He found the nearest open seat and began to eat.

The taste was… muted and he found himself struggling to force the food down.

“Tastes different, doesn’t it,” a woman sat down across from him.

“I’m… sorry?” Michael couldn’t look at the woman’s face. She was too beautiful.

“The food. Don’t worry. It’s normal after your first time taking the sacrament. Nothing will ever compare to that again,” the woman smiled.

“Yeah… I— I remember the priests saying that when they were telling me about what it’d be like. I’m okay with it.”

“You don’t have to play the tough guy. We all deal with it differently. Honestly, I missed it for the first few months. I had my doubts,” the woman said.

“You’ve been here awhile?”

“Yes, so feel free to ask me any questions you might have. Concerns, whatever… oh, my name is April, by the way,” she held out a hand.

“Michael,” he shook it lamely.

Soft, but firm.

“Is it always the same? The ceremony, I mean?”

“The first time is always special. That’s not to say that we don’t honor the sacrifices. We always honor them. But, sometimes circumstances dictate how much,” April shrugged. “Receiving the sacrament in battle is a different matter. I’m going to warn you now… it’ll be intense your first few times, but remember there is always honor in the sacrifice.”

Michael nodded as he absently shoveled food into his mouth that he had already dismissed from his notice.

“The flesh will taste sweeter as you grow stronger.”

“How strong can I get?”

“No one knows the limit. For my part, just a few months and the people that— that hurt me before couldn’t touch the me I’m now,” April nodded solemnly.

“That’s good, I mean that’s what I want. I need to be strong enough to fight for our world.”

“And you will be, just don’t forget that you don’t have to do it alone. We’re all one in this together. Where one falls, hundreds stand.”

April was a gregarious sort and Michael eventually forgot how beautiful she was as she drew him out of his shell.

They talked for what felt like hours. He only had dim impressions of the others coming in and going out of the mess tent even as they took the seats around him.

He exchanged polite greetings, but only had eyes and ears for April.

The spell was broken when the horn rang out across the camp.

“Time to break camp,” April said.

“Right, got to pack up my tent and stuff,” Michael said.

“Well, Michael, like I said, come find me if you ever need to talk about anything,” April waved as she left the table to deposit her tray with the cleaners.

He waited awkwardly for her to finish before he, too, rose from the table to return his tray.

When he returned to his tent he found his section leader gathering the others around.

“Ah, Michael, we can start the briefing,” Fred said.

“But— my tent—” he closed his mouth when he realized that the others hadn’t packed up their gear.

“That can wait,” Fred smiled. “I’ve got our marching orders.”

Michael’s gaze drifted to the slowly moving brown waters of the river several hundred yards away.

“We’ve got the honor of being part of the vanguard. Scouting mainly, but skirmishing if necessary. You’re new to this and we don’t want to throw you into the deep end right away, but we do want to get you combat experience and the chance to partake in the sacrament. It’s always better and more impactful when you take it in honorable battle.”

Combat.

A chance to partake of the sacrament outside of the safe confines of the ceremony.

Fear.

Eagerness.

He didn’t know which held the reins.

“I can’t stress enough how big and important this Crusade is. Our oracles all agree that there’s something terrible brewing somewhere to the west of us. The pictures are hazy, but it’s looking like we’re going to Kansas. This is huge. Like, Earth-threatening huge. But don’t let that freak you out. Remember, we’re one big team. All you have to do is your part, no matter how small or big, you do what you can do. No more, no less,” Fred continued.

Michael nodded along with the other fifty or so people in his section.

“We’re just part of one finger, many others are all moving westward, but I’d like to think that we’ll get the first crack at whatever evil is out west. So, keep that in mind. Anyways, pack up your stuff, but leave the big and heavy stuff. We’re traveling light to the next settlement. Scouts have picked out a small town about 30 miles west on the interstate. About a thousand people. We’ll give them a chance to become part of the movement. As sacrifices or as one of us, but be ready for a fight. As much as it might bother me, experience has shown me that large communities tend to reject our gift, unlike smaller groups.” Fred clapped his hands. “Alright, that’s all I’ve got, let’s get it done.”

The vanguard was around 200 people. A full fifth of the main fighting complement of this particular finger. Half of them were newer recruits like Michael.

They rode in a wide variety of vehicles.

Michael sat uncomfortably in the back of a truck, unstrung bow in his hands and traveling pack between his legs.

They covered the distance quickly.

Fortune was with them as no monsters or mutant animals bothered them.

The vanguard’s leader brought them to halt several miles out from the town.

The scouts appeared a short while later.

Michael watched them speaking to the leader, but couldn’t hear what they said.

The leader gathered the section leaders around him next.

“Wonder what they’re saying?” a fat young man sitting next to Michael whispered.

“I think the scouts just gave them the report on the situation in the settlement,” Michael said. He tried to remember the young man’s name.

“No shit, man, but the important question is what’re we going to do. I’m thinking we should just roll in there and,” he ran a finger across his throat, “you know, do what we do.”

“This is my first combat mission. You’ve been on one before?”

“Well… no, but this is the Meat Parade—”

Michael bristled.

The fat young man recoiled. “What’d I say?”

Michael calmed himself. “Sorry, but that’s what outsiders named us. It isn’t the truth.”

“Yeah, yeah totally, my bad, just nervous… it’s pretty cool sounding though,” he noticed the look on Michael’s face, “gonna shut up now…”

Fred returned from the meeting with word.

“Listen up people! The speaker is going to give them the offer, but we’ll move into position regardless. They’ve got a wooden wall encircling the center of the town and they’ve already retreated their people behind them. Your part in the plan is simple, since we’re a ranged group, we’ll be softening up the section of the wall that we’re going to climb over. Once we’ve established a breech, I’ll turn you loose. You’ll be free to pursue the sacrament as you wish. I’d recommend you move in groups since you’re noobs to this, but it’s not our way to keep a tight grip, so do as you will, just don’t do it until I give the okay,” Fred said.

Michael frowned.

That didn’t sound like a wise battle plan to him.

Regardless, he strung his recurve bow and checked the rest of his gear.

He felt the newness of the Flesh Eater Class and what it gave him.

He wished it didn’t feel like an ill-fitting pair of boots.

“Let’s do this, let’s do this, let’s do this,” the fat young man muttered under his breath.

Donald.

That was the fat young man’s name.

“Relax, Donald. Remember the training and the practice,” Michael said.

“Yeah, man… I will, I mean, I do. We’ve got this,” Donald cracked his knuckles.

“We just need to stick together,” Michael locked eyes with the others sharing the truck bed with him. “This is just the first battle. There’ll be plenty more if we work as a team.”

Nervous nods.

Fred beamed. “See… that’s what I like. There is no ‘I’ in team, after all. Don’t worry too much, I’ll try to keep an eye on all of you guys, but don’t count on me to bail you out. There are fifty of you in just this one section and I’ve got a couple of them,” he shrugged.

Michael didn’t know how to respond to that.

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All he could do was to give a wordless nod.

The truck suddenly jumped into gear and just like that he was about to begin his first fight as part of something greater than himself.

----------------------------------------

Now, Kansas

Heddy woke with a groan.

Something pounded in her head.

Her eyes were crusted over, her mouth tasted like something had died and her throat felt like she had swallowed sandpaper.

Too much to drink last night, she belatedly remembered.

The pounding wouldn’t stop.

Then she realized that it was coming from downstairs.

The front door of her shop.

She tried to ignore it as she staggered to her bathroom.

She gulped down several handfuls of water in an attempt to quench the desperate thirst that her booze-addled mind just noticed.

Several minutes later her eyes were free, but still bleary. The headache was worse, just like the pounding on her door.

She staggered down the steps and unlocked the door.

“What do you want? It’s Sunday! The Sabbath! No work!” she snarled.

“Maybe, but you need to go to a service and seeing as it’s almost five, there’s only one left,” Knox said.

She glared at the slim, middle-aged man with his perfect black and silver hair.

“C’mon, Heddy, you’ve missed too many services. They’re starting to notice.”

“Well, it’s cause I’ve been working so hard to supply their war machine,” she shrugged as she stepped back to let Knox enter her shop.

He sniffed the air. “I can smell the cloud of bourbon you’re exhaling with every word.”

She cupped a hand over her mouth and checked. “Damn it. I just brushed my teeth.”

“You drank so much last night that you’ve still got a puddle of liquor sitting in your belly,” he sighed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Well, whatever,” he waved a hand, “just go shower. You smell worst than I do after a bender.”

“Can’t. Head hurts too much. Going back to bed.”

“None of that. Did you drink water yet?”

She grumbled a nod.

“Well, drink more. I’ll cook you up some breakfast… or dinner, technically.” he smoothly slid past her and up the stairs despite her effort to block him. “Go, shower,” he called down.

She did as she was told and climbed into the shower. It took time for the cold water to turn warm, but she felt so bad that it didn’t really matter. Too much effort to do anything about it.

The smells from her kitchen soon reached her nose.

Her stomach roiled unpleasantly in response.

She tried to fight it, but a combination of water, bile and last night’s booze came hurtling out of her mouth like a river breaking through a dam.

It burned her already raw throat and watered her eyes so much that she couldn’t see.

She collapsed to her hands and knees in the shower.

Time passed. She had no idea how much. It was a vague experience. She washed her hair and body. That much, at least, she made sure to do.

She toweled off and nearly fell again as the bathroom swayed.

She managed to avoid such an ignominious fate as falling over with her underwear half on and Knox having to run in and clothe her. Not that either of them cared about the sight of her naked body.

It was the dignity of it and their kind had precious little of it ever since the church became so powerful.

“Well… that sounded awful,” he said as she stepped into the kitchen. “You aren’t dressed properly for service,” he injected the word with venom.

“What?” she regarded the sweats, “I’m wearing a bra,” she said flatly as she staggered over to the table and collapsed into the chair. Bacon, eggs and toast. “How typically American,” she scoffed, “and you burned the toast.”

“It’ll help with the hangover.”

“You’ve carbonized it,” she held up the black slice of bread.”

“Well, carbon is used to filter out impurities in water.”

She glared at her friend as she bit into it. “Tastes like charcoal,” she said around a mouthful.

“I wouldn’t know,” he arched a brow.

“That’s cause you wouldn’t know fun if it came up and smacked you in the dick.”

“It’s not a fun time,” he said seriously.

She groaned. “Don’t. My head hurts enough as it is.”

“Heddy, I’m worried about you. You can’t be this reckless. If they find out the truth—”

“I’m a valuable Enchanter,” she threw her arms out wide. “They need me, so they will overlook my sinful ways,” she said bitterly.

“Until they don’t.”

“Then they’ll ‘exile’ me,” she rolled her eyes, “like the rest of us sinners. Would be nice not having to live with a sword hanging over my head.”

“It’s not a good life outside the wall. Monsters, mutants and the lack of supplies.”

“That reminds me,” she pointed to the stack of cash on the kitchen counter.

“How much should I take?”

“All of it. I’ve got enough stuff to last till my next payment.”

He thrust the stack into his jacket pocket. “Thanks. This will help a lot.”

“You know it’s funny that you’re telling me to be careful. Yet, you’re the one placing yourself in danger to smuggle supplies out to our people.”

He blew her a raspberry. “Oh, please,” he waved a hand dismissively, “there’s a long chain from me to the people actually doing the work. I just distribute the money and coordinate a little. If the seekers come sticking their piggy snouts around I have nothing to give them. I collect money for charity and give it away to sooo many different people that I can’t possibly remember them all. More importantly, I give money to everyone that needs it. Even true believers,” his face twisted in distaste.

“Yeah, not a fan of that, but I get why it’s necessary.”

She took a long time to finish her food.

Each bite threatened a rebellion in her stomach.

“Thanks for the meal,” she said.

“Good, now let’s go to church.”

“Fuck that noise,” she sneered. “I’m too busy, got too many important things to do in order to keep them supplied with enchanted arrowheads.”

“Heddy—”

“I don’t care, Knox. The seekers can suck it. If they come around bitching I’ll tell them if they want me to spend two hours in church then they can expect less production.”

“It’s Sunday. No one works today.”

“Except people in the groceries and the restaurants,” she said flatly.

“Yes, yes, they’re hypocrites, but they’ve got the power to kick us out or worse.”

“Just like the old days.”

“Well… much worse on account of the monsters.”

“I actually prefer my monsters to be explicit in their horribleness, so that’s an improvement. Monsters in human skin pretending to be all about love and Jesus, while condemning anyone that doesn’t fit their views to death, oh and the torture conversion bullshit,” she shook her head, “they’re worse than the Meat Parade.”

“I don’t know about that. They actually eat people.”

“But they’re honest about it. And it’s a quick death… probably.”

“Still horrible… okay, I guess I’ll be off to church then. What’ll you be doing?”

“Knox, man, I know you can’t help yourself. You’re a natural momma bear, but I’m an adult and I’ve got a valuable class. No one is going to touch me.”

“Can you please just stay in today?”

“No can do. I’ve got to visit the foundries— oh look at that, another place that doesn’t shut down on their precious Sabbath— need to sort out my work supplies for the week. I think the bastards would rather my output not drop after all.” She grimaced. “Not that I’m looking forward to it. That place is too loud when I don’t have a pounding headache.”

“Maybe the two will cancel each other out. Just be careful. I’ll check in on you in a week. Toodles!” he waved goodbye with his fingers.

She spent the next ten minutes slowly sipping water before heading out.

The foundries was a metal working factory complex that had expanded to include other factories and warehouses in a several block radius.

She rushed through the sounds of the pounding hammers as fast as she could while maintaining her sweats-clad dignity of a fast walk, rather than an all out run.

Naturally, the latter, in her condition, would’ve had her puking her breakfast-dinner out, which was bad for said dignity.

There was a row of smaller smithies outside the back of the main foundry building. These were personal spaces allotted to Blacksmiths of high skill and level.

She made a bee-line for her friend’s smithy while avoiding eye-contact with any of the dozen or so people she passed.

They were used to her presence and ways so they noted and dismissed her presence quickly.

Deandre was in the middle of beating the crap out of glowing piece of metal.

A spearhead from the shape of it.

She waited.

As a fellow craftsman she knew not to interrupt in the middle of the work.

The sound of the hammer on the hot metal and anvil struck a spike into her brain with every strike.

She contemplated walking as far away as she could when Deandre stopped to place the cooling piece of metal back into the blazing forge. He took off his goggles and stepped away for a glass of water when he noticed her waiting out in the cooler dusk air.

He grinned and waved a meaty hand as he approached. “Tommy, you can take over,” he directed one of his apprentices. “What can I do for you, Heddy? Problem with the last batch of arrowheads?”

She regarded the big, bear-like man with a wrinkle of her nose.

“Oh, sorry, but you know how it is,” Deandre gestured at his sweaty shirt and thick leather apron. “Smithing is a wet and stinky job.”

“Yeah, actually I’d like to discuss the arrowheads,” she said, “but not here. I’ve got a terrible headache and the hammering…” she had to be careful of listening ears. You never knew what might reach the seekers.

“Sure, why don’t we go to my office.”

She followed him to the small trailer across from the smithy.

She took a seat in front of the desk and waited for him to take his spot behind it before speaking. “Did it work?”

“Sorry, but working the blade basically wiped out the symbol you carved into it.”

“Can I see it?”

Deandre smiled apologetically. “Sorry… but I keep our ‘special projects’ at home. I can’t leave them here. I’m pretty sure the seekers look through my shit regularly.”

“Damn it… okay, that’s fine,” she sighed.

“We’ve tried it at different stages of the forging process and nothing’s worked so far. I think we have to do it together. While I forge, you do your thing.”

“I already told you that sounds like too much work. It’s too inefficient if my enchanting work is wiped out every time you stick the blade in the forge and hammer it.”

“I’d say we can take our time to figure it out, like we usually do, but…”

“What? C’mon, man… that look on your face is scaring me and I’m way to hungover to deal with random shit.”

“It ain’t random. I’ve heard some concrete news on the reason they’ve got as working overtime making arrowheads, spearheads and chainmail. The Meat Parade’s coming to town and there are a lot more of them than the last time.”

She groaned.

“The exiles are fucked. They’re going to be left to hang. I’m not saying this cause you’ve got connections with them… cause I have no knowledge of that one way or another, but they should be warned so the ones to the east of the city can move to the west or better yet, clear out of the area entirely.”

“Where else can they go? The monsters and the random biker assholes are already problems. They’re not strong enough to make it to the settlements that will take strangers in.”

“Enchanted weapons and armor could give them a chance.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “I should’ve worked harder instead of taking it easy. I didn’t want to put too much product out on the spires marketplace. Didn’t want to flood the market. Got greedy and now people are doomed. I made almost a100K Universal Points, but I’ve already shared most of it and it didn’t make much of a difference.”

“Wait— here’s an idea,” Deandre’s eyes brightened. “That dude who bought your enchanted weapons. Why not ask him for help?”

“No way! I can’t trust some random guy!”

“He ain’t some random dude. He’s a paying customer. A very wealthy and powerful one if he’s willing to throw that many points on— no offense— weak enchanted weapons.”

“None taken. I know what I made, but in my defense the other ones on the marketplace are worse.”

“Right, so he’s also smart enough to realize that.”

“Or he’s so rich that he can buy a sampling of everything.”

“That only helps my point. If points are meaningless to him, then it means he can get them easily, which means power.”

Heddy mulled it over.

Was revealing the true person behind Sexchanter69 worth the risk?

“What if he or she can’t or won’t help?”

“You got to try, right? Especially, if you can’t come up with anything else to help the exiles.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t take to long.”

“Right. So, what else can we do? What about that other thing?”

“I’m willing to give it a shot. Although, maybe not tonight.”

She nodded. Then stopped. “Tonight’s perfect.”

“C’mon, girl. I can tell you’re hungover as fuck.”

“That doesn’t matter for what I need to do. I just need to expel mana and I can do that in my sleep.”

“Okay, but we can’t do it when there are other people around. Word will definitely reach the seekers. I only trust my apprentices so far and I don’t trust the other Blacksmiths or any number of randos walking around this place.”

“Service is starting in like thirty, right?”

“That’s right. We’ll be taking a break to go, like usual,” he nodded.

“How far is the closest church?”

“Fifteen minute walk. A few minutes by car. Most of us will be walking, of course.”

“Then they’ll have to eat dinner after. Before getting back to work.”

“I see where you’re going, but I can’t miss the service. It’ll be noticed.”

“It’s a one time thing. You can blame me. I had issues and wouldn’t let you go. That’ll give us at least two hours alone.”

“Okay, but with that much time I can only complete something smallish.”

“How small are we talking?”

“Without Skills, a knife with a 3 to 4 inch blade is probably best,” he held his thumb and index finger apart. “With Skills… maybe double the length.”

“That’ll do. Come get me when everyone’s gone. I’ll be in here, hydrating,” she reached for a water bottle from the pile next to the door of Deandre’s small office.

“Alright, but you better not puke in my smithy,” he said before leaving her alone.

She took several deep, steadying breaths.

There wasn’t much time.

And even if this experiment turned out to be successful, repeating it without being discovered wasn’t going to be possible.

Which narrowed her options to help the exiled people down to one that was very unlikely.